He didn't have PathFinder anymore.
Was it that simple" No, it was never that simple with Opals. From the moment he stepped foot from Matt's office after surrendering the stone a profound sensation of despair welled up in the pit of his stomach. After over five-hundred days in his possession the rock hadn't just become a part of him it was" something more. Bruises, swelling, and stitches weren't all that marred his visage; instead they were accompanied by a despondent thousand-yard stare as he kept to himself, rarely moving from his favorite cushioned armchair in the dojo in the days that followed his defeat at Seirichi's hands. The realization that the Opal itself was no longer his left him numb, like a soldier coming to grips with an amputated limb. "I lost it."
Those were the only three words he had uttered to Stick upon returning from his failed defense, and since then a thick curtain of silence hung throughout the dojo between them. His thoughts were of loss, of emptiness, and that bubble of despair only expanded with each deafening tick of the clock. Even the joyful exuberance of their son wasn't enough to lighten his mood as he sat glued to his chair, morose. Stick had afforded him all the space he wanted for the first few days. She understood the nature of his loss and had dealt with something similar when FireStar was taken from her. Though the physical, mental, and emotional toll it appeared to have taken on her husband was something she had never expected or witnessed in him before. He simply sat there, empty and detached from everything around him. Their silence would only be broken when Stick caught him packing clothing into a duffel bag upon her return home from dropping Stefan off at school. He only paused briefly as she stepped into their bedroom, long enough to make eye contact before continuing the task at hand.
"I have to leave." It was a declaration, lacking emotion, as though this was some fate he had simply resigned himself to.
"You have to leave?" The questions Stick had rushed like a flood and threatened to overwhelm her, though instead of sorting them out she simply repeated his words, dumbfounded by his abrupt revelation.
"Yes. I love you. And Stefan. I'll be back. I'll write you both. I promise." Each statement was succinct, disjointed, and more than he had said in the past several days. He had packed light, and the simple dull gray cotton duffel bag was slung over his shoulder. Stick stood rigid in the doorway, though not in protest, more so in stunned confusion. He didn't press her to pass, instead the toll he paid was a kiss brimming with more passion and sincerity than she had ever experienced between them, an affirmation of his pledge to return. And when she opened her eyes, he was gone.
Was it that simple" No, it was never that simple with Opals. From the moment he stepped foot from Matt's office after surrendering the stone a profound sensation of despair welled up in the pit of his stomach. After over five-hundred days in his possession the rock hadn't just become a part of him it was" something more. Bruises, swelling, and stitches weren't all that marred his visage; instead they were accompanied by a despondent thousand-yard stare as he kept to himself, rarely moving from his favorite cushioned armchair in the dojo in the days that followed his defeat at Seirichi's hands. The realization that the Opal itself was no longer his left him numb, like a soldier coming to grips with an amputated limb. "I lost it."
Those were the only three words he had uttered to Stick upon returning from his failed defense, and since then a thick curtain of silence hung throughout the dojo between them. His thoughts were of loss, of emptiness, and that bubble of despair only expanded with each deafening tick of the clock. Even the joyful exuberance of their son wasn't enough to lighten his mood as he sat glued to his chair, morose. Stick had afforded him all the space he wanted for the first few days. She understood the nature of his loss and had dealt with something similar when FireStar was taken from her. Though the physical, mental, and emotional toll it appeared to have taken on her husband was something she had never expected or witnessed in him before. He simply sat there, empty and detached from everything around him. Their silence would only be broken when Stick caught him packing clothing into a duffel bag upon her return home from dropping Stefan off at school. He only paused briefly as she stepped into their bedroom, long enough to make eye contact before continuing the task at hand.
"I have to leave." It was a declaration, lacking emotion, as though this was some fate he had simply resigned himself to.
"You have to leave?" The questions Stick had rushed like a flood and threatened to overwhelm her, though instead of sorting them out she simply repeated his words, dumbfounded by his abrupt revelation.
"Yes. I love you. And Stefan. I'll be back. I'll write you both. I promise." Each statement was succinct, disjointed, and more than he had said in the past several days. He had packed light, and the simple dull gray cotton duffel bag was slung over his shoulder. Stick stood rigid in the doorway, though not in protest, more so in stunned confusion. He didn't press her to pass, instead the toll he paid was a kiss brimming with more passion and sincerity than she had ever experienced between them, an affirmation of his pledge to return. And when she opened her eyes, he was gone.